


Just Knock

by Lasenby_Heathcote



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Breaking and Entering, Christmas, Getting Together, Gift Giving, Kissing, M/M, Steter Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:13:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21909517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lasenby_Heathcote/pseuds/Lasenby_Heathcote
Summary: Stiles breaks into Peter’s apartment to put his gift under the Christmas tree, only to discover that Peter is in fact, home.But instead of throwing him out, Peter invites him in for a drink.
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 13
Kudos: 535
Collections: Steter Secret Santa 2019





	Just Knock

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nabawrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nabawrites/gifts).



> This is a gift fic for Nabawrites for the Steter Secret Santa 2019!
> 
> I hope you like it!

Stiles stepped gingerly on the fire escape. He was certain that Peter was at Derek’s pack-meeting-christmas-thing that Stiles was late to, but he still didn’t want to attract any attention from any other neighbours. Did Peter have neighbours? Stiles wasn’t sure but tonight was not the night for him to find out by having them call the sheriff's department on him. Because  _ that  _ would go down great with his dad. He tested the window, not at all surprised when it gave freely. Peter and Derek seemed to have the same attitude when it came to home security, in that  _ they  _ were the security, and gods forbid anyone be stupid enough to break into the home of a werewolf. Like Stiles was doing. Right now. 

Stupid Scott and his stupid dare.  _ Tell them how you feel! It’s Christmas! Give them a gift and how would they say no to you? _ Very fucking easily, Stiles surmised, which is why he was taking the cowardly way out and breaking into Peter’s apartment to put his gift under the Christmas tree, and if Peter didn’t say anything to him after Christmas then he could deny all knowledge of having done it. Although Stiles was sure Scott wouldn’t have been so encouraging if he knew it was Peter that Stiles was crushing on, but plausible deniability could only get you so far when it came to friends you’ve had all your life. Scott knew Stiles liked someone, and had dared him to fess up or shut up. 

Straddling the window sill and ducking his head inside, Stiles didn’t immediately see a tree in the living room like he’d expected, and had planned for.  _ What if Peter didn’t have a Christmas tree?  _ He wondered and Stiles was hit with dread, kicking himself for not considering the possibility or even casing the place out earlier. He’s sure it would have occurred to him if only he hadn’t spent the last 3 weeks denying that he had feelings for someone or that he’d been saving up and gotten a gift for the someone he didn’t have feelings for, and now it was the 23rd and he had to do something because if he didn’t fulfil this dare then Stiles would have to work the opening shift at the diner New Year’s Day, and fucked if he wanted to deal with that. 

Stiles crept into the apartment, resisting the urge to full-on snoop. It was minimalist in the traditional sense (not in the barely spartan sense of Derek’s loft), but uncluttered and unadorned. Stiles would almost say it lacked personality but everything in the apartment was clearly curated and expensive, which fit Peter’s personality to a T. 

But no fucking tree. Did born werewolves even celebrate Christmas? Or did they celebrate something more pagan, like Saturnalia? When  _ is  _ Saturnalia? Does it have gift-giving traditions too? Not for the first time Stiles wished there was a born werewolf he could have this conversation with, but it wasn’t like he could ask the Hales without it being a reminder of the family and home they lost in the fire.

The next doorway he poked his head into was the bedroom - again very mininal but classy as fuck - and bearing the only sign of mess in the whole apartment was the rumpled wine coloured bedsheets, thrown casually up against the dark wood and metal frame. Stiles had to tear his eyes away before he got distracted by the idea of the man who slept in those sheets. He thought he heard a slight clinking sound or a creak from somewhere else in the apartment and he froze, holding his breath waiting for the sound again to identify it, heart pounding in his chest as his brain wracked through the possibilities and impending consequences if he'd been seen climbing in. But he couldn't make out anything beyond the vague hum of a car drive by outside and he exhaled carefully, mentally kicking himself for the ninth time tonight.  _ Just put the damn thing somewhere and get out.  _ He glanced around, frowning.  _ Just maybe somewhere not the bedroom,  _ he thought, ducking back out into the hallway.

The next doorway showed him some kind of office and an assortment of bookshelves and Stiles thought in lieu of an actual Christmas tree, this was his next best bet. He tiptoed into the room, he’d just leave his present on the desk and skedaddle because he’d been here far too long already and - 

“Hello Stiles.”

_ SHIT!  _

Stiles jumped out of his skin and about three feet backwards, clutching the wrapped gift to his chest as his heart-rate skyrocketed and he locked eyes with none other than Peter himself. Peter, who was standing in the corner of the room by a liquor cabinet, glass in one hand and decanter in the other -  _ of fucking course Peter is the type to have a crystal fucking decanter and actually use it -  _ calmly looking back at Stiles with his usual casually curious look on his face. 

“Drink?” he offered casually, holding out the glass like he hadn’t just caught Stiles in the act of breaking and entering his home. 

Stiles just stood there dumbly gaping, not quite comprehending why he wasn’t being yelled at or pushed out the door like he had been all the other times he’d broken into someone’s house - all with good reasons - and it wasn’t until Peter nodded again to the offered drink that Stiles’s brain and body kicked back into gear.  _ What the hell _ , he thought, taking the proffered glass. The crystal was cold at the rim but center warmed by Peter’s hand and Stiles wrapped his fingers around that warmth, hoping he wasn’t blushing at the way he relished the contact-by-proxy and lifted the glass to his lips. The whiskey? Bourbon? Was crisp on his tongue and coarse on his throat as he coughed it down. Peter filled a second glass for himself and returned the stop to the decanter, smoothly sipping from it. Stiles watched the bob of his neck as he swallowed it down his eyes flicking back up to Peters lips as they formed his signature sardonic smile, parting to ask,

“So what brings you to breaking into my apartment tonight?” 

Stiles swallowed loudly - comically loud to his ears although he would admit that his senses and nerves were still on high alert from the shock of finding Peter at home - and glanced down guiltily at the present still clutched to his chest. The gold wrapping paper was creased from where his fingers has gripped it and he cringed, he’d worked so hard to cut the sheet cleanly and fold it perfectly, he’d wanted it to be as smooth and classy looking as Peter - and his apartment - always looked to Stiles. He’d chosen the gold paper especially, and no gaudy ribbons which he’d overly adorned everyone else’s gifts in contrast, and here he was sweating nervously all over it. 

"I thought you would be at Derek's.." Stiles stammered, avoiding answering the question until he really had to. 

"Not really my kind of thing." Peter replied. "Too Christmassy."

Stiles snorted lightly. "Yeah, I noticed you don't have a tree or anything here." Peter hummed in agreement, his piercing eyes watching Stiles watch him as he took another sip from his glass. The corners of his mouth tilted up in what Stiles guessed was amusement, and Stiles felt eerily like cornered prey about to be devoured and he had to break eye contact because that thought was a little too hot as fuck to indulge in right this minute. 

"What else did you notice while you were snooping around my apartment?"

"It's really classy." Stiles couldn't help but admit, the honesty slipping past his currently off-line sense of self preservation and he quickly gulped back the last of the liquor before he said too much.  There was a considered pause before Peter quietly said "Thank you." in an impossibly congenial tone, the surrealness of which had Stiles wanting to pinch himself. Instead, glass now empty and unable to use it to distract himself, his mouth took over from his brain and he blurted out the question that begged an answer since he'd found out he wasn't alone in the apartment. 

"Why aren't you kicking me out? You catch someone red handed in your apartment and you offer them a drink? I mean, that's very  _ you,  _ but then so would throwing them out the front window. Why do I get the drink? Or is it just the prelude to the inevitable defenestration?"

"I wouldn't break a window that I'd have to be responsible for replacing. And besides, you're cute so some measure of leniency can be given."

Stiles's brain got whiplash as he realised what Peter had just said. "Wait a sec, did you just say I'm lucky I'm _ cute?" Peter thought he was cute?  _ Stiles's heart didn't know if it should be elated at the appraisal or insulted at being categorised with the same level of attraction as puppies. Sure, puppies were awesome, but there's a vast difference between cute and hot. Peter however, deftly avoided explaining himself by pointing to the gold wrapped box Stiles still had in his hand. 

"What's that?"

"It's...uh.." Stiles whispered, his voice wavering and he cleared his throat, manning up what courage he had left to face the reason he was here tonight. He shoved his hand forward, sighing.  _ Just do it.  _

"It's for you. Uh, happy Saturnalia?" 

Peter stepped closer, taking the small box in his hand and turning it over slowly in his fingers. Stiles's heart was in his throat as he watched Peter's face for any sign of readable reaction. His handling of it was almost tender, but he made no move to open it, instead lifting to his nose and giving it a gentle sniff. Stiles was both anxious and enthralled, torn between the impulse to book it out of there while Peters attention was diverted, the urge to cry  _ just open it! _ , and have this whole thing done. Peter met his eyes again.

" _ This _ was important enough to risk breaking into a werewolf's home?"

Stiles didn't even pause before answering. 

"Yes." 

Peter raised an eyebrow in smug approval at what Stiles could only assumed was his brazenness. 

"Well then,  _ Io Saturnalia,  _ Stiles." He said before leaning in and capturing Stiles's lips with his own. Peter kissed with a confidence bordering on arrogance, sparking Stiles's brain past the shocked stage and right into competitiveness, and he pushed back into the kiss. It was  _ fantastic.  _ Peter kissed with the decisiveness and style that he did everything, and annoyingly teasing, as he broke the kiss off just as Stiles was really getting into it. When he opened his eyes, Stiles couldn't help but glance up at the ceiling, Peter following his gaze with a frown. 

“What are you looking for?”

“Hidden mistletoe..”

“Do you really think I would have mistletoe in my own home?”

“So that was a ‘because you wanted to’ kiss?”

Peter leveled him with a look that simultaneously said  _ seriously?  _ and  _ I want to do it again. _

“ _ Yes.” _

“Just checking-” he said grinning, and launched himself back at Peter to continue the kiss, arms wrapping around his shoulders and prompting a light growl from Peter who deftly manhandled Stiles into the nearest bookshelf. Feeling his back hit the wall, Stiles wanted to laugh - if every kiss with Peter was a fight for dominance, then that was something that Stiles could get very, very used to.

“Oh and Stiles, the next time you want to come over, just knock.”


End file.
